Keep Me Posted
by 5typesoftrash
Summary: After Reichenbach, Sherlock starts to write a series of electronic letters to John. He never sends them. He's grieving as much as John is, so he has to do something. It's written similarly to John's blog, not out of conscious decision, but because it made sense. You will follow his story as he discovers feelings and things he didn't know he had. T for language. Johnlock.
1. November 21, 2009

**So… this is just the first chapter. It's just kind of an experiment. If you dislike the format, let me know. Also, please correct fluidity and consistency errors in the reviews. I always do. I also enjoy pointing out the inconsistencies of my fandoms in my fanfics. I must be a difficult person to find a flatmate for. Unless it were another fangirl. If it's another Reylo/Johnlock obsessed fangirl, I will move in with her and talk about Reylo and Johnlock for hours on end, analyzing every second of footage we are allowed to see of either.**

 **Anyway, enjoy my experiment (there are so many Sherlock references in this A/N jesus).**

* * *

[11/21/09] {01:13}

John,

I need to apologize. I didn't want to do this to you. Not again. You've seen enough loss and pain for your whole life. You didn't need this guilt, but I piled it on you anyway. You're a much better person than me, and I won't ever forget that.

It's different, being alone. I've had you to depend on for so long I forgot what it felt like. It's hard to let you go. You have a life, though, and I need to respect that, I know. It's just so _hard_. I'd really like to see you smile again, and I'm not sure why I desire that right now. I want to hear your voice. I want to hear your voice _saying my name_. What's wrong with me?

You always complicated things when we worked together. But at the same time, you couldn't let a man die. Except me. But you didn't do that on purpose, did you? You only let me die because you had no choice, because I jumped before you could stop me and you were knocked over before you could get to me.

I'm struggling with something. Maybe someday I'll tell you. I can't tell you yet, because I'm in far too much danger. I'll tell you when it's safe.

If I die for real before I get back to you, I'll kill myself.

I'm sorry this is so short, I just needed to open up.

John… keep being John.

Don't keep me waiting much longer.

I miss you.

-SH

* * *

 **What do you think? It's just a little update, sort of, to kinda get it rolling…**

 **Let me know how badly it sucked on a scale of -10 to 10.**

 **Thanks!**

 **Love,  
Allie**


	2. November 23, 2009

**Ok.**

 **Here's your new update.**

 **Enjoy.**

[thingsssssssss]

[11/23/09] {14:26}

John,

Today I had to stop a girl from getting strangled to death. I hid my face and left immediately.

I'm bored. I want someone to entertain me. You were always very good at that.

I miss you. I wish I were one hundred percent sure that you were safe, because then I could tell you. Then you'd know I was alive.

 _Fuck_.

I never swear, but _fuck_ I miss you, John. I can't ever tell you how much I miss you right now, at this moment in time. Sometimes, it makes me want to die.

I hate myself.

Why did I hurt you like that? There had to have been another way.

I tried to tell you… "it's a trick, John. It's just a magic trick." But that wasn't enough. I didn't try hard enough. They weren't monitoring my phone. They weren't going to bug me. They didn't know what I was saying. I'm an idiot.

You told me that once. The day after we met. I called you an idiot, and you called me one in return. I think about that a lot. It still makes me smile.

Someone told me once that your woman should say you're an idiot instead of I love you. "If she calls you an idiot, you're a lucky man," she said. I guess… your man should be the same way? I hope so. I hope it means… I don't know. I can read you in some respects, but you're good at hiding your feelings from me. I'm actually not sure about you. I could never tell if you loved me or not.

I fancied you. For a long time, I fancied you. That day that we met, was actually as close as I get to being awkward. I was actually _flustered_. I had to leave right away. I leaned against the wall and breathed deeply for a minute, just to clear my head. Then I had to go do work things. Anyway…

I think…

John, I think I love you.

No.

I love you.

God, I'm glad that you're probably never going to read this. It's way too embarrassing. I don't even know if I'll get to see you again, let alone show you these unsent emails…

I miss you.

Don't forget me.

Move on, but don't forget.

Love,  
Sherlock

[ .LOCK]

 **I hope you like the longer chapter! I'm not sure how well I do with the character of Sherlock, it makes me a little nervous that my Sherlock is unrealistic to the canon version of Sherlock. Then again, he's weird. He's surprised me many a time.**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoy my Johnlock fluffy shit, and, you know… have a good day.**

 **Don't try to kill yourself.**

 **It's not fun.**

 **Love,  
Allie**


	3. December 4, 2009

**Look.**

 **I love Johnlock.**

 **I love everything.**

 **Except myself.**

 **I'm in my therapy waiting room right now, writing about this.**

 **I love you guys. You make me not care.**

 **I'm sorry that I write about suicidal people so much. It's kind of just me coping with my own suicidal-ness. Also, it doesn't seem that far out of the realm of possibility for Sherlock.**

 **Just don't hate me for being depressed, please?**

 **That's my greatest fear.**

 **I love you all.**

* * *

[12/04/2009] {4:42}

John,

I shot at a wall today, because it reminded me of you. I only had four bullets. I missed the smile every time.

I still miss you. It kind of sucks. I can't really talk to you, just pretend that you're here. I want to come find you and hold you and kiss you forever.

I'm not going to let you go.

Not again.

I've learned where I went wrong every time I tried to have a friend: I didn't care. I didn't try. With you, I wanted to try. I tried too hard. I cared about you, and it led me to my fake death.

But at least you survived.

I could have been selfish.

I could have stood on that roof and called you and told you that you were going to die, hung up and come down. The sniper would have shot you in the head.

And I would have convinced myself that I didn't feel guilty.

After all, sentiment is a chemical defect always found in the losing side.

My side is the losing side. The one that doesn't care. If I don't care, I have no reason to live.

Maybe that's why I've tried to kill myself so many times.

…

Did I just admit that to you?

I did.

I did screw up royally.

I'm a fuckup.

It would be so easy to let you go, to forget and never look back.

Okay, it wouldn't. It would require a lot of work and effort… it would involve measures I'm not willing to take. I'd rather come back home and kiss you.

I want a case.

Does Lestrade have any cases? That was a stupid question. He always has cases. The police are, after all, _always_ out of their depth.

I miss you.

Don't forget me, please. That would hurt me a lot.

Even though you only knew me for 18 months.

Sherlock Holmes is dead. At least to you.

But someday, he will rise from the grave and come back to you.

He only hopes you won't hate him too much…

Love,  
Sherlock

* * *

 **So… this one is a little weird.**

 **Idk if I made this clear, but this is basically Sherlock's diary. All of his personal revelations and deductions and things will be in here, included in his letters to John.**

 **Question: do you like the name "Keep Me Posted," or should I change it?  
If so, here are my ideas: "Letters to John" (or Watson either way) or "Love, Sherlock". Which do you like more? Do you have your own ideas? Whatever you want.**

 **Also, I will absolutely update DFM soon. I'm so sorry that I've been slacking.**

 **If you're a Reylo person, you should also go read my billion Reylo fanfics.**

 **I hope you enjoy it!**

 **Love,  
Allie**


	4. December 11, 2009

[12/11/09] {22:13}

John,

I had a mental breakdown today. I don't remember why. I was heavily influenced by drugs (which I've also started using again since I "committed suicide"), and I was thinking about you and I collapsed.

Eventually, I resorted to cutting, but I didn't stop the blood flow and I collapsed.

I woke up in an abandoned alley.

I miss you. And Molly, and Mrs. Hudson… Mycroft I guess, and Lestrade. I treated them all so badly…

I'm an arsehole, aren't I? I am. That's why people hate me.

It's fair.

It's probably why I hate myself.

But you don't hate me.

You never could bring yourself to hate me. And I'll never know why.

Someday I'll return to you and tell you how much I missed you and things, but I'll never confess my love, and I'll never ask why you stuck around.

It hurts too much.

I feel like I've failed everyone I've ever cared about.

I feel like there's this _word_ that describes my life and I can't ever get rid of it, but because it's there some people hate me arbitrarily.

 _Gay_.

"Faggot" they call me. Treat me like the garbage I am. Make me feel like shit.

But I'm Sherlock Holmes. I don't have emotions. So I don't tell anyone. I bottle it all up inside and keep it away from my brain. Every emotion I've ever had is in a little vial on a shelf in a large room in my mind palace. I never go there. If I enter that room, they all escape, and I feel them all at once.

I can't do that.

But there's this one emotion that never stays in its bottle.

Love.

I love you, John. And the bottle for that feeling keeps breaking. I'll need to buy some more. It escapes, and every time I see you it overwhelms me.

Fuck.

I hate having feelings.

They're impossible to control. And then, when I get the bad ones, when I get depressed and things, I do drugs. I cut. I do so many things that I shouldn't. And now that you're not around, there's nobody to save me from myself.

I love you so much, John.

Don't forget me, please.

Love,  
Sherlock

[uuuuuuuuuuugh da feelz]

 **I'm so sorry I haven't updated today.**

 **I've been busy.**

 **If any of you read FTLOR, I want you to know that the next chapter will be uploaded tomorrow.**

 **It will be the last.**

 **I'm very sad to leave that fic behind, but I have the perfect evil ending planned.**

 **I'll talk about that fic in that fic, though.**

 **Love you!  
Allie**


	5. December 19, 2009

**Ok.**

 **I know, I know. I owe you several chapter of literally** ** _everything._**

 **I'm still writing them. But I do have this, so I'm going to upload it.**

 **I'm so sorry that I screwed up my writing schedule by not updating in Leavenworth. I am seriously sorry. The problem is just that I spent all of my time with my girlfriend, and I spent most of it sledding, or catching her up on Sherlock, or in town buying things. It's not quite my fault…**

 **I did other things too.**

 **Interpret that how you will.**

 **Anyway, enjoy your fresh new chapter of fluff.**

* * *

{12/19/09} [14:43]

John,

I took down three snipers today. I found them in an alley, talking about you. They were saying that John Watson was going to die on January 4th. So I killed them all.

I shot the first one in the head with my first bullet, and the second one charged me, so I knocked him out with the butt of my gun and held him in front of my body. The other shot at me but hit him instead (because I was holding him in front of my body) and he died too, and then I shot the final man in the chest, the head, and the right leg.

He was very, very dead.

But there is no doubt in my mind now.

I am absolutely in love with you.

I'm learning about things like this still, and that's why I couldn't identify this immediately, but I know that I love you. You are the only thing that matters. God, John Watson, I love you.

I can't forget about the speech you gave at my grave.

I'm so angry with myself. The things you said… "One more miracle, Sherlock, for me. Sherlock, don't be… dead. Would you do that, just for me?" I wanted to die. Legitimately. It wasn't fair to me, and it _certainly_ wasn't fair to you. Why did I do that to you? I shouldn't be allowed to do that to you.

I should be outlawed.

Everyone hates me anyway.

Not even just for this, but for everything I've done. I'm not good enough for you. When I come back, I still won't deserve you. I'll still be the man that made you grieve.

I understand that you'll probably be angry. That's okay. If you want to hit me… I'm okay with that, too. I just kind of… hate myself. For everything I've done to you.

I wish you were safe.

I wish I could come back to you.

I wish I could see you again.

I wish I could save you.

But I can't. I can't save anyone. I have never been able to save any of the people I loved. That was why I stopped caring.

So that it wouldn't hurt.

Don't make my mistakes, John.

You're better than that.

You don't deserve that life.

I wish I could say that I would come back and you would love me and we'd be together. But in all honesty, I've never been able to read you.

You're a mystery, John Watson.

I've always loved mysteries.

I'll be glad to meet whomever you're with when I return.

I hope you've found someone who loves you. Someone you can be with forever. And I'm sorry that I can't do that for you.

I love you.

~Sherlock


End file.
